


A Smart Match

by Anonymous



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Butt Plugs, Cock Cages, Humiliation, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:11:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4852358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint can't imagine why he was Matched with Steve Rogers. On paper, it looks like the Dom is the worst possible fit for him, but Clint starts to think this might work out after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Smart Match

**Author's Note:**

> Wafer thin excuse for spanking porn. Might be some just straight-up porn in later chapters. We'll see.
> 
> This is set in a D/s AU with all the consent issues that go along with that. If that's not your thing, this fic may not be for you.

On the first day, Steve sat Clint down in the kitchen to go through the rules.

“The Matchers thought you’d fit in well here,” he said, looking Clint up and down dubiously. Clint got it; he’d been through more Doms than any other sub he knew. “I suppose we’ll find out. But I’ve read back over your records a bit, and it looks like your previous Doms were not particularly strict. And yet...” Steve trailed off, apparently unable to find a delicate way to talk around Clint’s failures within his last relationships.

Clint wondered if he should say something, but then Steve shook his head and said, “Well. Anyway, we’re going to have to try it and see. I don’t know what you’ve been told, but I’m strict with my subs and I have high expectations. I won’t relax those expectations for you – just the opposite, I think, given your history. Do you understand?”

Clint nodded, and a small frown creased Steve’s eyebrows. “I’d like a verbal answer, please,” he said mildly. “And for future reference, failure to do so next time will earn you a spanking.”

Clint tried to conceal the small shiver that went through him, and cleared his throat. “Sorry, sir,” he said. “I understand.”

Steve had a lot of rules. He let Clint take the rest of the day to settle in and try to learn them all, but he made sure to tell Clint that this didn’t mean he could exercise privileges he hadn’t earned yet. Clint learned that this included sitting on the furniture, and going into rooms in the house other than the kitchen, the laundry, the bedroom and bathroom that Steve told him he could use, and the hallway which connected them. He could go out the back door to the garden; Steve showed him the part of the garden he was allowed in, which contained the garden shed, a small vegetable patch, and a tyre swing hanging from an oak tree. Steve didn’t show him around the rest of the house.

The next morning, Steve came to Clint as he was getting out of the shower. “Good morning, Clint,” Steve said with a smile.

Clint gulped, because he knew why Steve was here, but he remembered the warning from the day before and replied, “Good morning, sir.”

“I’m glad you remembered not to get dressed without me,” said Steve. “Come into the bedroom and bend over the dresser. You can leave the towel on if you’d rather.”

So Clint went over to the dresser and put his palms on it, sticking his bottom out. Steve lifted up his towel, but it came untucked when Steve moved it. Steve wrapped the towel around Clint’s waist again, this time so that it was tucked in behind him instead of in front. He lined up the gap with Clint’s crack and settled the ends of the towel against the outsides of Clint’s thighs. Steve ran his hands up the back of Clint’s legs and gently spread his asscheeks apart; Clint shivered a little as he felt cool air against his hole.

“Hmm,” said Steve. Clint heard the cap of a bottle opening, and a few seconds later he felt the touch of a cold, slick finger at his entrance. He twitched. “Hold still,” Steve ordered. Clint tried to obey and make himself relax into the pressure.

“Are you used to wearing a plug?” Steve asked.

It was hard for Clint to concentrate on answering, as Steve was still fingering him, but he did his best. “Uhhh,” said Clint. “I’ve, uh, I have before, but usually only for short. Ahh, short periods.”

“Well, then,” said Steve, adding another finger. Clint’s hips began to rock of their own accord, and Steve said, “Hold still. I’ve told you once already.” Clint forced himself to stop moving, and Steve said, “You’ll be wearing a plug each day until I decide otherwise. I brought a few with me because I wasn’t sure which...” He added a third finger; Clint held his position through a supreme act of willpower. “But since you’re not used to it, I think we’ll start with the small one today.”

Steve pulled his fingers out and Clint barely remembered in time not to try to push back onto them. He heard something rustling behind him, but he was sure Steve wouldn’t want him to look around. A few seconds later, he felt the tip of the plug at his entrance. Steve began to push it inside and Clint could feel himself tense up. Steve must have noticed it too.

“Breathe,” said Steve, rubbing Clint’s back. “That’s it. Breathe deeply. And now push back. Good.”

The tip of the plug eased into Clint’s hole, and he pushed back to take the rest of it in. But when he thought that surely it was all inside him now, Steve gave another nudge and it turned out the plug was bigger than he’d thought. He grit his teeth and breathed through his nose, trying to relax and push back at the same time. His hole was stretched wide around the plug and it still wasn’t all the way inside; how big was this thing? And had Steve really said that he’d decided to use the small plug?

With one last push, Clint finally felt the plug settle inside him, his hole closing around its neck. He was aware of every inch of it inside him; he needed to pee, and he’d just gone ten minutes ago. His hole still felt uncomfortably stretched, and he was leaning hard on the dresser because his knees felt weak.

Steve pulled the edges of the towel back to cover Clint’s ass. “I need you to stand up now,” he said, and Clint did his best to obey, although he worried he was moving too slow. He couldn’t help it; every small movement shifted the plug inside him and it felt a little bit like it might fall out.

“Do you still want to keep the towel on?” Steve asked.

Clint nodded, then remembered himself and said, “Yes, sir.”

“Okay. Then wrap it around you so it’s tucked in at the front. I won’t look,” said Steve. He turned his back to show he meant it. Clint felt kind of silly for still wanting to be covered after what Steve had just done to him, but he appreciated it. He quickly adjusted the towel and then, seeing that Steve was still facing the other way, he cleared his throat and said, “It’s done, sir.”

“Good.” Steve turned back around and smiled at him. “When you’re ready, I’d like you to pull the towel up to expose your penis.”

Clint blushed. It wasn’t that he was a prude or anything, definitely not! But the way that Steve talked about it, so clinical and detached, not sexual at all, somehow that was more kinky than anything Clint had done with his previous Doms. Steve had said, ‘when you’re ready,’ and Clint decided to take him at his word, waiting a full minute before he found the nerve to lift up the ends of the towel.

“Okay,” said Steve. He reached over to the bed where he’d put a bag down, and took something out of it. “Now, you remember yesterday I told you that I expected you to wear a cock cage?”

“Yes, sir,” said Clint.

Steve nodded. “Unfortunately, in order for me to put it on you, you need to be flaccid,” he said. Clint had figured as much. Too bad he’d been sporting an erection ever since Steve had started fingering him. He thought he might actually have got a bit harder when Steve had said the words ‘cock cage’. Hell, even hearing Steve say ‘flaccid’ had sent a shiver through him. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Steve’s lips curled up – not quite a smile, but he definitely looked amused. “Any suggestions about how we could take care of that?” he asked. “Anything besides climax. You’ll need to earn that.”

Well, of course. Clint had expected nothing less, but maybe he’d looked a bit hopeful. He breathed in, about to speak, but thought better of it at the last second.

“What is it?” Steve said. “Speak up, whatever it is.”

“Can I go to the bathroom, sir?” Clint asked, a little desperately.

“Of course.”

So Clint went back into the bathroom, where it took ten minutes for him to will his dick to become soft enough that he could pee. After that, he had to shuffle over to the sink to wash his hands, and he was hard again by the time he crossed the bathroom floor, thanks to the shifting of the plug in his ass with every step. And then he shuffled his way back to the bedroom to stand in front of Steve.

“Any better?” Steve asked.

“Uh.” Clint looked down, noting the way the towel draped over the outline of his dick. “I think I need a few minutes, sir. It’s... the walking. Uh.” He knew he was blushing, and was furious with himself for it. He wasn’t some inexperienced virgin, damn it. He’d had a lot of doms.

“Of course,” said Steve kindly. They waited, and while Steve must have noticed when his erection subsided (because the towel was thin and hid nothing at all), he didn’t say anything and waited for Clint to tell him he was ready.

Steve had Clint lift the towel out of the way again and took out the cage. Clint tried to get a good look at it without being too obvious. Steve cupped Clint’s balls in one hand and began feeding them through the ring of the cage; Clint tried not to squirm. Once they were secure, Steve took the shaft of Clint’s penis and spread a little lube around the tip. The coldness of the lube reversed the hardening that had happened as a result of Clint’s balls being handled. Steve eased the tip of Clint’s penis into the tube and the rest followed easily; it was a perfect fit. Steve locked the cage and showed Clint the key.

“There are a few spare copies of this key,” Steve explained, “but I’m the only one who knows where they’re kept. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Steve went back to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer. It wasn’t full of Clint’s clothes – he hadn’t brought many with him. The top drawer held the clothes that Steve had provided for him. Steve pulled out a skimpy, lacy thong and held it out to Clint.

“Put this on,” he said. Clint gulped, but he could already tell that when Steve gave an order there was no mistaking it for anything else. He took the thong and stepped into it, sliding it up under the towel. It was a snug fit, and he could feel the lace slip between his cheeks. He shifted his weight, and felt the thong press against the base of the plug. At least it might help it to stay in.

Steve opened the closet door and pulled out a short, pleated skirt. “Now this,” he said. Clint’s face burned. He’d never really been into cross dressing, or role playing, or any of that – but Steve had already gone through this yesterday. Cross dressing had nothing to do with it.

Clint pulled the skirt on and regretfully discarded the towel. He felt more naked now that he was wearing actual clothes than he had when Steve had three fingers up his ass. Steve quickly put out the rest of his outfit – a button-down shirt which wasn’t necessarily cut for a female figure, but which did have pearl buttons and flowers embroidered on the pockets, and knee high socks and black patent leather shoes with tiny buckles which were almost too delicate for Clint’s fingers. For several minutes, Clint struggled to find the best way to get the socks and shoes on. Squatting down was no good – whether or not the plug would stay in while he did that, the pressure of it was far too uncomfortable to bear. Sitting on the bed was against Steve’s rules, and not all that appealing anyway. Clint wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up again if he sat on the ground, so in the end he bent over like he was touching his toes in an aerobics class. He was uncomfortably aware that his bottom was completely exposed while he did that, and tried to keep his back to the wall as though that would help. Steve busied himself while Clint put the shoes on and didn’t watch, which somehow made it more humiliating, not less.

“Let me see you,” Steve ordered, once he was finished. Clint straightened up and moved towards Steve when he beckoned, turned around when he was told.

“Okay,” said Steve. “We’re almost done now, but we’ve still got to go over this.” He showed Clint a small exercise book with a book of stickers stuck in the front – just coloured dots, red, green and blue.

“This book is about punishments,” Steve explained. “You need to follow my instructions and rules, as well as the instructions of the rest of the household. You’ll keep track of any punishments in here. This way, I’ll know how you’re settling in and whether you’ve earned privileges.” He gave Clint a stern look. “Don’t think you can leave out any punishments the others give you. You’ll be caught, and you won’t like the consequences.”

“No, sir,” Clint said quickly. Steve softened immediately.

“Good. Now, any minor rule-breaking gets marked with a green sticker. Anything like, say, not answering questions verbally when you know that’s expected of you.” Steve was giving him a piercing look, and Clint tried to figure out why.

“Like earlier, when I asked whether you wanted to keep the towel on?” Steve reminded him. Clint gulped and looked down. “That’s right. So, take one of these green ones and put it in this column. Now, you write down what you did wrong.”

Face burning, Clint wrote next to the green sticker, _Didn’t give verbal answer to question._

“Good. Green stickers are worth three spanks. More serious rule-breaking gets a blue sticker – things like being out of permitted areas, or rudeness. Those are worth five.” Steve looked at Clint as though to make sure he was paying attention. “Your first ten spankings each day will be with my hand,” he said, “but after that, I’ll be using a paddle. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Clint answered quickly. He wished Steve hadn’t put it quite like that, as though the idea of Clint being spanked more than ten times in one day was just an inevitability.

“Right,” said Steve. “Then there’s the red stickers. These are for breaking serious rules, or deliberate disobedience.” He gave Clint a piercing look. “For example, if I tell you to keep still, but you start moving without being instructed to...”

Clint looked down at his knees, bare below the hem of the skirt and above the white socks. “Did something like that happen this morning?” Steve asked.

Clint blinked hard. “Yes, sir,” he whispered. God, he felt useless. He hadn’t thought he’d fuck up this quickly.

“Hey,” said Steve. Clint felt Steve’s hand heavy on his shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re in a new place and there’s a lot of new rules to follow. You’re bound to have a little trouble at first.”

Clint felt a bit lighter after hearing that, and Steve added, “I’m still going to punish you, of course. That’s how you’ll learn.”

Of course. “Red stickers earn you ten spanks with a paddle,” Steve explained. “And on top of that, once you get a red sticker, it’s paddle spankings for the rest of the day, whether you’ve had more than ten or not. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” said Clint. 

“Well, go on,” said Steve. “Show me you remember how to fill out the book.”

So Clint took a red sticker and, blushing furiously at the memory, wrote, _disobeyed order to keep still_ next to it. And then Steve said, “We’ve done these out of order, it was actually the red one you earned first,” and pulled a paddle out of his bag. He adjusted his seat on Clint’s bed and said, “Over my lap, now. Let’s not drag this out any more.” He sounded almost _jolly_.

Clint slowly lowered himself onto Steve’s lap. It was awkward with the cock cage, which seemed perversely opposed to settling anywhere comfortable and instead insisted on staying pinned between Clint’s body and Steve’s thigh. The pressure of the plug wasn’t too bad once he was settled, but Steve hadn’t started spanking him yet.

Steve took the hem of Clint’s skirt and lifted it up so that his bottom was bare. This was why Steve had chosen the outfit for Clint that he had, something which he had explained to Clint’s mortification the day before. Steve rested the paddle against Clint’s bottom and said, “Before we start, explain why you’re being punished so I know you understand.”

“I was disobedient,” Clint said. “You gave me an order not to move and I didn’t follow it.” He paused, not sure if he should continue or not.

“And?” Steve said, pressing down for a moment with the paddle.

“And when you asked me a question before, I didn’t answer it verbally,” Clint added, even though he _had_. Just not straight away.

“Good,” Steve said, lifting the paddle. “Let’s see if we can help you remember those rules, hmm?”

When Clint had met Steve the day before, he’d noticed that the other man looked strong, and he’d been right. The first spank made Clint scramble across Steve’s lap with a yelp, but Steve pinned him with a hand on the small of his back and there was no getting away.

The second spank landed in the same spot as the first, and so did the third, right across the junction where Clint’s thighs met his ass. The tender skin started to burn and Clint wriggled his legs. He could only keep one at a time out of the way of the paddle, but it was all he could do.

Steve landed two more smacks in the same spot and then paused. Clint stilled, wondering if Steve had decided to take pity on him. It was only his first day, after all. But instead, Steve put his hands under Clint’s arms and pushed him forward. And then he manoeuvred one leg around so that both of Clint’s legs were pinned between Steve’s. Clint tried to wriggle only to find that he couldn’t budge an inch.

He heard Steve pick up the paddle again, and tensed. Steve didn’t start spanking him straight away, though, and Clint wondered if he was waiting for him to relax. Perhaps foolishly, Clint did relax and found his answer when the paddle cracked down on his bottom for the sixth time.

Now that Steve had shifted him, each blow from the paddle landed squarely across the base of the plug. Clint howled and squirmed, but between Steve’s legs and his massive hand pressing hard on the small of his back, there was nothing he could do to avoid the spanks. By the ninth spank, there were tears standing in Clint’s eyes, and on the tenth, they spilled over and he began to sob.

Steve stopped spanking him again and rubbed Clint’s back between his shoulders. “Poor Clint,” he said gently. “You’ve had some bad luck on your first morning.”

Clint wondered if Steve would take mercy on him now, but he was starting to suspect that that wasn’t something Steve did, and he turned out to be right when Steve said, “You’ve got three more spanks coming, Clint. Three more and then it’s all over.”

The worst part was that it wasn’t the harshest spanking Clint had ever had. Not by a long shot. The plug was new, but he didn’t get why that made such a difference. With the clothes and the cock cage and the impersonal way Steve had been touching him all morning, Clint just felt so humiliated. He bit his lip and grabbed hard onto Steve’s leg.

“Good boy,” Steve said approvingly. Clint should have taken it as a warning, but he was still surprised when he felt the paddle strike his bottom. Steve wasn’t spanking him any less hard than he had been before, either.

“That’s eleven,” Steve said, as though he thought Clint might not be able to keep count. And, hell, maybe he couldn’t. Steve paused for another minute to rub Clint’s back some more, and as soon as Clint’s crying eased up a little he smacked him again. “Twelve,” said Steve. “Just one left. I’m very proud of you, Clint. You’ve done well.”

That almost started Clint crying again, but he held it in until Steve had delivered the final spank. Steve put the paddle down where Clint could see it, even though that meant he had to have switched it to his other hand. The only reason to do that would be to make Clint look at the paddle he’d just been spanked with. He didn’t want to, but Clint did look at it. It was made of some sort of wood – oak, Clint thought – and it was about six inches across. It didn’t look like something which should hurt as much as it had, but Clint knew better.

Steve rubbed Clint’s back some more. What Clint really wanted Steve to do was rub the sting out of his bottom, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen. Steve murmured soothing words to him, and after a while Clint began to feel pleasant and light. A while later – it felt like only a few minutes but Clint thought it was probably longer – Steve said, “Are you ready to get up now, Clint?”

“Yes, sir,” said Clint, but he wobbled as he stood up and needed Steve’s help to keep his balance.

That day, Steve made sure to introduce Clint to everyone else in the household. He’d met Bruce the day before – apparently he loved to cook and was often in the kitchen. But he hadn’t met Thor, who enjoyed gardening, or Tony, who had a workshop in a part of the house Clint wasn’t allowed in, or Natasha, who, as far as Clint could tell, was always everywhere but could never be seen unless she chose to be.

Over the next week or two, Clint got to know these other people Steve lived with. Bruce spanked with no rhythm that Clint could identify, and was an expert at striking when Clint wasn’t expecting it. Thor was as strong as Steve, and liked to make Clint count when he was being spanked. And Natasha always seemed to be nearby whenever Clint thought he was about to get away with something. He wondered if she had a twin, or a few clones, and the others were just pretending she was one person.

Tony spanked the way he talked, fast and hard, with no pauses. According to Steve, he was the owner of the house they all lived in. “We’ve talked about making access to you a part of my rent,” said Steve, “but I’ll need to be satisfied with your training first.”

Tony was a good looking man, and Clint dedicated himself to Steve’s training as much as he could, but it was difficult. There were a lot of rules to remember.

Clint had chores to do around the house, but no more than the others did, including Steve himself. The difference was that a chore forgotten or done poorly earned any of the others a disappointed look. For Clint, it earned him the same look as well as a spanking. 

Steve was also a lot more exacting when it came to how well Clint did his chores. He found this out to his detriment when he was washing up the dishes one day, and Bruce said, “Oh, you can let them dry in the rack. I always do.” Clint was particularly annoyed by this because it was the first time he’d gone nearly the whole day without a paddling. Bruce’s guilty expression when Steve explained his error didn’t comfort him much.

Clint was pretty sure he could have learned the rules a lot more easily if he weren’t constantly distracted by the plug and cock cage. The plug wasn’t always as big as the one he’d had to wear the first day; Steve had sat him down one day and showed him some of his (extensive) collection, and talked about the differences. Apparently, to be worn long-term a plug needed a long, narrow neck. This kept his body from trying to push the plug out after a short while. Even so, Clint still had to go to Steve two or three times a day and ask him to apply more lube. 

He had some plugs which were small, no bigger than one of Clint’s fingers, but which were made of hard, unyielding steel or plastic. When Clint wore one of those he was aware of it every time he took a step or turned around or bent over to be spanked. The bigger plugs Steve made him wear had all been silicone so far. They made Clint feel full all day, but he was learning to shift them inside him so that they sat more comfortably.

Every night Steve took Clint to the bathroom and gave him an enema. “It’s not essential if you’re wearing a plug long-term,” he explained, “but it helps. And, well, I guess I just like it.” That was the first time Clint heard Steve admit that he liked something, rather than just insisting it would help with Clint’s training.

Steve would make Clint stand in the middle of the bathroom, bent at ninety degrees, holding his asscheeks apart with his hands to expose his hole so that Steve could insert the nozzle of the hose. If Clint had had a good day – that is, if Clint had got through the day without being paddled – Steve would let him crouch on the floor instead, on his elbows and knees, and would rub his back and whisper encouragement to him as he slowly filled with water. Clint didn’t learn that until his second week, because that was how long it took him to get through a day without a paddling. 

He’d thought remembering not to sit on the chairs would be a difficult rule to remember, but his ass was always so tender that he didn’t feel like sitting anywhere, and when he knelt in the kitchen to eat his dinner it was hard to know what hurt more – sitting back on his heels, or kneeling upright with his weight on his knees. 

Since that first day, Clint hadn’t had such an embarrassing reaction to being spanked. More often, the punishments just left him feeling frustrated – three spanks here, or five there. He wished Steve would put him over his knee and spank him with his hand until Clint was limp and exhausted, but not if it was going to happen half a dozen times a day. But he thought he was starting to remember the rules better.

Clint was more right when he’d realised – that night, after Steve had finished giving him his enema, he took Clint into his bedroom and said, “I want to talk to you about something.”

“Yes, sir?” Clint said cautiously. He didn’t think he could be in trouble – Steve had actually kissed the back of his neck during the enema, and called him ‘such a good sub, so well behaved’. Clint had been called a lot of things in his life, but never, ever well-behaved.

“I’m really pleased with your progress,” Steve said. Clint’s chest puffed up with pride. “You haven’t been paddled two days in a row, and no red stickers for four. You’ve earned a reward.”

Clint wondered what Steve’s idea of a reward might be, but before he could say that he had a few suggestions if Steve needed them, Steve went to the dresser and opened the top drawer for Clint to see. Inside was a stack of white briefs.

“You can choose to wear these now, instead of the thongs,” Steve said. “If you do, your first five spankings each day will be done over your underwear. After that, though, you’ll need to take them off and go commando for the rest of the day. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” said Clint. He was pleased. Wearing a thong felt sexy sometimes, but that wasn’t necessarily what he wanted when he was just trying to go about his day. And he always wondered how much the short little skirts Steve made him wear revealed his ass. Sometimes, he imagined the base of his plug might even be visible under the hem of his skirt. He wasn’t sure, though – the one time he’d been in his bathroom, trying to look at his ass in the mirror and figure out how much was visible, Steve had come in with a stack of newly washed towels and caught him. 

That had got him in trouble, first for rubbing his bottom, which wasn’t allowed and which he hadn’t even been doing! and second for trying to explain that to Steve, which Steve said was disobedient and disrespectful. He’d had to rest his shoulders on the sink and hold his skirt out of the way while Steve spanked him five times with his hand and ten times with his leather paddle. After that, he’d just tried not to think about how much of his ass was visible. It wasn’t easy, considering that he’d passed Natasha in the hallway just afterwards and she’d said, ‘Looking a little red there, Clint.’

Anyway, he was happy to see the briefs. He put on a pair the very next morning, but they must have jinxed him or something, because it was the worst morning he’d had in a long time. Bruce had to spank him because he forgot himself and just said ‘Uh-huh’ when Bruce wished him good morning, instead of answering properly. Tony spanked him because he saw Clint kneeling on one of the chairs while he buttered the biscuits for breakfast, and again because Clint was stupid and cheeky and said that he wasn’t _sitting_ on the chair, so it should be okay. Natasha spanked him because Clint spilled some milk and didn’t clean it up.

Clint was upset that the morning had gone so badly, and he just wanted to rush through his chores so he could go hide in his room for a while. He was mopping the hallway and doing a rather sloppy job of it, when he jostled the bucket with the mop and it tipped over. He righted it quickly, but soapy water ran out of the bucket and across the floor into the study.

Clint heard Steve’s voice behind him, saying, “Leave it, Clint,” but he didn’t want to listen. He was probably going to get another spanking for not doing his chores well, which meant he’d lose his precious briefs for the rest of the day, and he just wanted to show that he could clean up properly after all. So he took the mop and chased the water into the study, forgetting that it was one of the rooms where he wasn’t allowed to go.

He mopped up the water for a few minutes before he became aware of just how quiet it was. He looked up at Steve’s face, then down quickly when he saw his Dom’s expression.

“Sorry, sir,” Clint whispered, and stared to leave the study.

“No, stop,” said Steve. “You chose to go in there, so don’t leave. Put the mop down.” 

Clint gulped and did as he was told. Steve walked into the study behind him and said, “Where’s your book?”

Clint handed it over, and Steve’s frown only deepened at what he saw. “Oh, dear,” he said. “Well, those underpants will have to come off, won’t they?”

His face burning, Clint took off his briefs and held them, not sure what to do with them. Steve didn’t tell him, instead saying, “Bend over the desk now.”

Steve delivered five stinging smacks with his open hand, right to the middle of Clint’s ass. He stopped abruptly afterwards and said, “What did you do wrong?”

“I wasn’t doing the mopping properly, sir,” Clint whispered, still trying to catch his breath.

“No, you weren’t,” said Steve. “So after your punishment, I expect you to go back and start over. I’ll check once you’ve finished to make sure you’ve done a good job. But first, what else did you do wrong?”

“I went into the study, even though I’m not allowed,” Clint said. “And even though you told me not to.”

“Yes,” said Steve. “So you’ve broken one of the major rules, and you were directly disobedient towards me.”

Clint squirmed. Steve didn’t move or speak for a few minutes, much too long in Clint’s opinion. He thought the anticipation was worse than the spanking, although he knew he’d change his mind as soon as the spanking started.

Steve moved around the desk and opened a drawer. He pulled something out which Clint couldn’t see because of the books that were piled up on the desk.

“Tell me what the point of me punishing you is,” Steve said. Clint winced; he knew he wasn’t much, as far as subs went, but until now he’d thought Steve didn’t feel the same way. 

Suddenly Clint felt a hand squeeze his shoulder, and Steve spoke by his ear. “I know why,” Steve said, “but I want to know that _you_ know why.”

Oh. “Um, so that... so that I learn better, sir?” Clint guessed.

Steve patted his shoulder. “That’s right,” said Steve. “Whose benefit is this for?”

“Mine, sir,” said Clint.

“So, what should you do when someone does something to help you?”

“Say thank you?”

“Yes,” said Steve. “After every spank. I want to make sure this lesson sinks in.”

“It will, sir,” Clint said, forcing himself to close his mouth and not beg Steve to forgive him.

He heard a slight whistle before the blow landed, but he still gasped when it did. He nearly forgot, but managed to choke out, “Thank you, sir,” before the next spank.

It had to be a ruler or something, Clint figured, because it was long enough to strike both asscheeks at once. Steve landed the first strike right at the tops of his thighs, and the next one just a little higher so that it overlapped, and kept going that way right up until he reached the curve of Clint’s ass on the tenth. Clint wasn’t sure what he was saying even made sense any more, it was just a never-ending babble of “Thank you, sir. I’m sorry, I’m so – aaooh, thank you, sir. Please – aaah! Thank you, sir...”

After the tenth strike, Steve began working his way back down Clint’s ass, which was much worse. Clint wasn’t sure if it was true or if Steve was doing it on purpose, but it felt like the ruler was always overlapping in the same place, so that some strips of skin had been spanked four times and others only twice. It seemed unfair, somehow. Inequitable.

Clint was pretty sure his last two thank-yous were completely unintelligible. Once Steve was finished, he stepped away and put the ruler back in the desk drawer. He left Clint crying on the desk for a few minutes, but he must have realised Clint wasn’t going to calm down on his own.

Steve rubbed Clint’s back with one hand and held out a tissue with the other. “Wipe your face,” he said. Clint took the tissue and did as Steve said. “Make sure you fill out your book, now,” Steve reminded him, and Clint sadly peeled off one blue sticker and two red ones – the first red ones in a whole four days – and placed them in the book.

“Now,” said Steve, “You won’t coming in here without permission again, will you?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Go put your underwear in the laundry, and then you need to finish cleaning up, right?”

Clint made sure that he left the hallway cleaner than it had ever been.


End file.
